


Felix Will Remember That

by VTheTrashKing



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crying, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is Bad at Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, One Shot, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Spoilers, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, Time Travel, Video Game Mechanics, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTheTrashKing/pseuds/VTheTrashKing
Summary: Title is taken from "(Character) will remember that." prompt/minor video game mechanic in Telltale's The Walking Dead.Felix opens his eyes, haunted by several futures he starts to remember.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Felix Will Remember That

**Author's Note:**

> I've only done the Blue Lions' route, however, I'm in the middle of doing the Golden Deer route. In AM, I got Felix and Sylvain's paired ending and I found it pretty sweet. The other routes, though, yeah no way am I pairing them - it's sad. Since Divine Pulses are a thing, I don't have to make an excuse for writing a time travel one shot and I quite enjoy those.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Felix’s eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times to get used to the soft afternoon light spilling from the stained glass windows.

Afternoon light?

Felix remembered it being morning. Night?

Some time during the day, never the afternoon. Morning, marching straight to the Empire’s capital, hearts beating to the rhythm of their footsteps. Fighting through Edelgard’s grand castle turned a battlefield, taking down Myson and sticking close to the right to fight a monster. Edelgard herself. No hope of a peaceful end to the war, dagger to the shoulder, lance to the chest.

Sun dipping into the horizon, Felix watching in the sidelines as Claude and the Professor chased down Nemesis. Watching the Golden Deer almost _viciously_ tearing through droves of enemies, keeping up with their House leader and Byleth within minutes. An abundance of bows and magical attacks flung at Nemesis, Claude’s declaration roaring over Nemesis’ singing. A splatter of dark red paint from Ignatz’s arrow, violent winds from Claude, dual crescent sickles from Leonie and Lorenz, an axe to the head from Hilda, an advanced ice spell and a _strong_ dark magic spell from afar, Marianne and Lysithea, respectively. 

A foggy morning, doused in flying fireballs and a sick air of upcoming skirmishes. Former friends and classmates clashing together, killing each other all too easily. 

A dead, silent night, two childhood friends about to break their promise. Regret marring a sun kissed face, too used to a plethora of different smiles. Reluctance and resolve, shifting into a cold Faerghus snowfall, a Kingdom Felix didn’t remember betraying.

Felix opened his eyes to see an intact classroom. Wooden tables clean and almost brand new, no chips or cracks. No dried blood or random, burnt pages of books set askew. No disembodied limbs strewn about on a bloodied stone floor, no rusted, broken weapons. No broken glass. Blue Lions banner still on the walls. 

Felix glanced at his hands, expecting to see his brown gloves, last time soaked in blood that wasn’t his. 

His hands were bare. Unscarred.

Instead of white puffed sleeves tinted blue, thin cotton white stared back at Felix’s bewildered face. Clean. The only blemish in sight being the wrinkles in the sleeves. No tears, no dried blood.

Felix bit back a confused, choked noise. His stray inky blue locks seared against his pale face, no longer swept to the right. 

Felix drew his _shaking,_ sweaty hand near his neck, where his black turtleneck collar would have been. His neck was now mostly covered by a forgotten, hazy uniform collar. Light. A v-neck.

“Felix? You okay there?”

Felix’s head _snapped_ to the lone voice in the eerily quiet classroom. His maple brown eyes grew wider, wider and _wider_ as information and barely there memories bashed his head in.

A scarred, calloused hand on his shoulder, gradually turning into a hug. A mouth usually spouting the most casual of things, balancing a deadly, ongoing war and childhood nostalgia, gone silent. Pressing a screaming and sobbing Felix close after he shattered the bottle that was his turbulent emotions. Losing a father he hated but wished to mend his relationship with, the man dying like any other during the war. The man, Rodrigue, following his own damned words to Felix many years ago, dying like a true knight for a broken, mad prince.

Astray fiery red locks of hair, catching in the darkened night, crescent sickle looming near his side. The black-gray blade flashed under the moonlight, dripping in blood. A promise on his lips, faking a smile before turning into a grimace. Felix, on the other side, of twirling, blooming spider lilies. Drenched in the blood Felix didn’t wish to spill anymore. Felix, hoping to give his childhood friend, his lover if he remembered right at times, a quick and painless death. Sylvain, unable to do so, despite the blood soaking his hands. A sword sinking into Sylvain’s chest, somehow missing an artery. A curved blade with dark purple energy digging right into Felix’s side, entirely non-lethal, save for the possibility of severe blood loss. Falling to the ground nearly in sync, light passing through Sylvain’s tired eyes, tender and full of love for his killer. Felix letting himself smile something bitter as he stared back, hand in hand with Sylvain.

“It’s okay,” Sylvain breathed, the syllables pained and airy, “not afraid of dying, you know. I knew I wo-” a bloody, wet cough, “wouldn’t live. But, it’s okay, dying like this, to you- together. It’s okay.”

A stained red hand reached for Felix, cupping his cheek and smearing blood. An ever growing smile splitting Sylvain’s face, peaceful and somehow happy. He showed teeth, completely bloodstained.

“Guess we kept our promise after all, huh?”

“Yeah. We did, Sylvain.”

Sylvain laughed through his nose, eyes crinkling.

“It’s good to see you don’t hold back, still. Training, or a real battle.” Sylvain’s voice trailed off with a swallow.

“I wanted to. I was scared of running into you on the battlefield, killing you without even knowing, and I-”

“Hey.”

“Mmph?”

“You’d rather me hide my pretty face? I thought you knew me better, Fe.”

Felix’s mind was fogging up.

“You,” Felix let out a pained moan, “you’re pretty.”

“Hey now, don’t forget about yourself.”

“Not pretty. ‘M strong.”

Sylvain’s fingers gently dug into Felix’s hair.

“That too, that too, yeah.”

“Sylvain?”

“Yeah?”

“You think we could’ve done something different? Ended up,” Felix’s mind blanked, “different?”

“Yeah.”

“Think I’m gonna see Ingie ‘n Glenn now, Fe. Love you.”

“Die first and I’ll kill you, idiot. See you later, I guess, Sylvie.”

A laugh and smile frozen. A soft, formerly sharp grin gradually fading away.

A different memory bulldozing Felix’s frayed mind, something he _actually_ remembered happening. A boar prince shrouded in black-red sludge, sinking and _sinking._ A roar of rage cut short into a pitiful gasp Felix _barely_ caught as the Alliance retreated. A thud of a body dropping to the bloodied, fiery ground. Felix biting his gloved hand, face scrunched up in _agony_ as unshed tears gathered in his eyes. Trying not to scream, as he trembled _hard,_ losing a childhood friend turned into a monster, _dying_ like a monster. Dimitri. _Mitya-_

Felix kept his head held forward, eyes shifting to Claude, the man visibly mirroring his shattering heart. His General staring up into the foggy sky, a tear trailing down his face, mourning for Dimitri and former friends lost to the war when the rain wouldn’t. Returning to Garreg Mach, avoiding the training grounds for once in Felix’s life, holding himself in his room, curling into a ball and _screaming._ Looking up and picturing a younger Dimitri, still affected by Duscur staring back at him. A crooked smile on his face, a mere twisted twitch of his lips, haunting and mocking. The war coming to a close, Felix abandoning his childhood friends because he _couldn’t_ take it anymore. A hole settling in his heart and never leaving as the three interacted. Brushing Sylvain’s hand away and walking without looking back. Throwing himself into lone mercenary work, getting letters from Ingrid and Sylvain, even Claude and the Blue Lions at times. Felix barely responded, and when he did, he only sketched out his Crest. He felt sick when he received _more_ letters, now filled with hope instead of worry for Felix. The hope that Felix was actually alive. 

At one point, Felix remembered getting overwhelmed and ambushed by a bunch of brigands. They were hungry for money, and Felix had _loads_ of it. Not on his person, because he wasn’t _stupid,_ but that didn’t deter the small band of thieves in the slightest. Felix recalled his Professor’s tactics and ran to the trees, dodging and weaving attacks. Unintentional dance steps flowed along with his sharp movements, Thoron spells and swords at the ready. He won the _long_ fight, coming out of the battle close to death. He, again, wasn’t dumb enough to forget the basic Heal spell in his arsenal. Felix used it on himself, the magic searing his skin, stopping the blood loss.

However, Felix was stupid enough to send his most used sword, rusted over time to the Gautier estate. _Apparently_ that had translated to ‘Hey, Felix Hugo Fraldarius died in battle, here’s his weapon.’ instead of ‘Hey, I’m too far from a blacksmith, can you fix this for me?’

Felix forgot to send a letter, blank slate of a mind turning into white noise as he stared up into an equally white ceiling. An inn he visited, getting fussed over by the scared owners, to which he was too fatigued to protest. He let them push him into a room as he mumbled a few tired apologies at the blood beginning to stain the soft white sheets. He fell asleep, body ready to recover from his injuries. When he blearily woke up, a _dozen_ letters rested by the plain nightstand. He slowly blinked, grunting as he forced his arm to reach out for a letter. The Gautier insignia intrigued him, and the dried tear stains worried him.

So, he opened it and Felix’s heart sank. Scratched out scribbles of his name, normally and freakishly perfect penmanship crushed into shaky loops and ragged letters. Lax words and minor updates Sylvain constantly gave him in his letters, burned into the ground and shifted into denial and endless pleas. 

‘ ~~Felix Felix, Fe- FELIX-~~ Please tell me I’m sleeping, that this is a nightmare like seeing Miklan again. Why did a messenger send me a sword? Your sword? This has to be a joke, right? Felix, you aren’t dead, you **can’t** be dead.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. 

You have to be alive. Please, you have to be alive.

Felix---

Tell me, write to me that you’re okay, that you’ll just randomly appear in the Gautier territory like you did a year ago.

Please, Fe.

I’ll wait as long as you want me to, just please, give me a sign that you’re okay, that I’m not sending this to a dead man.’

With a lump in Felix’s throat, he got to writing a reply.

‘Dumbass, I’m not breaking our promise. Uh, and sorry about that. The sword thing. I wanted you to fix it for me, but I forgot to tell you? I was busy bleeding out after a brawl. Didn’t even get to steal money off of them.

Anyway, I’m alive. Sleepy, but I’m here. Don’t worry, maybe I’ll drop by sometime, or this week after I fully recover. Or now, knowing how impulsive I am. 

I’m okay, Sylvain. I’m alright.’

By the time Felix got a reply, he was trekking through Gautier territory, hiding a laugh at the words on the parchment. When he stood awkwardly at the shining black gates, waving at a surprised and rapidly approaching Sylvain, he found strong arms tightly wrapping around his waist. Sylvain’s tears dripping onto Felix’s ice cold face, hearing his relieved whispers filling his reddened ears. He refused to let go, even as snow pelted them both, ugly sobs shaking Sylvain’s body.

“Felix? Hey, can you hear me?” Sylvain asked, bringing Felix back into the present.

Present.

A past he remembered five or more times over.

Words were stuck in Felix’s throat, setting his tongue on fire. He stared at Sylvain’s face. Staring at his concerned honey brown eyes, the lack of exhaustion in them, of a man beaten down by a war. Staring at a mix of neat and chaotic hair swept mostly to one side, instead of the careless, half-messy spiked hair Felix was used to seeing. Fringeless and curled in some places. A soft face and chin, gradually on its way to sharpening. 

Felix grabbed at Sylvain’s buttoned white shirt, croaking when he realized this wasn’t some weird dream.

Felix felt _small,_ like the child he used to be, ready to sob in Sylvain’s arms. Tears blurred his vision.

“Hey, hey, Fe, it’s okay.” Sylvain whispered as Felix pressed his head into Sylvain’s chest, staining his shirt.

A frail, dying voice echoed those last words. Sylvain’s voice.

Felix clutched Sylvain’s blazer hard enough to nearly rip the material.

“ _Sylvie-_ ” Felix _whimpered_ under his breath.

Felix felt Sylvain shudder. A breath of a laugh leaving his chest.

“It’s alright, don’t cry, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here, I promise.”

Felix cried _harder_ at that. How _long_ would Sylvain be there, this time? Waiting for him? Chasing after him?

Then, when Felix thought his heart wouldn’t break even further, another voice called his name. Dimitri’s. His persona he put on for the unknowing audience stripped away by concern for his childhood friend. Felix dared to look back, staring at wide baby blue eyes. Not a lone eye, dulled by madness, resembling a fish eye. Brightening only at the prospect of killing or when clearity ripped at his head, setting himself straight. Not even when Dimitri was at his best, two eyes instead of one, no eyebags in sight, keeping himself mentally afloat yet threatening to drown at any moment except his very last. 

Felix thrashed in Sylvain’s warm hold, breaking away from the hug. Dimitri’s eyes got even wider when Felix practically launched himself towards him, merely an inch or two away from each other. Dedue eyed Felix, most likely ready to intervene. 

“Felix, I understand if you’re upset, but let us spar la-”

A thud.

Felix _sobbed,_ shaking as he hugged Dimitri. Dimitri was left frozen for a moment, arms at his side before hesitantly hugging Felix back.

“Felix?”

Felix couldn’t look at him. At anyone.

If he did, he’d see Dedue’s scarred face hardening. Him marching right towards Edelgard standing before her throne. A hole left in his heart at Dimitri’s brutal death. 

Ingrid with her short blonde hair and green-white ribbons. Her dark green eyes steadily becoming dull as she stared up at Felix, faintly smiling as if he didn’t cut her down, reluctantly or not. Reassuring him that death wasn’t sad at all and she would reunite with Glenn any time soon.

Ashe asking him what Felix’s favorite book was as he was bleeding out. Annette crooning out a wheezy song, hand loosening her grip on Mercedes’.

“ _Dimitri-_ ”

Dimitri hardly even _breathed_ at the call of his name. Not the name Felix usually used for him. Boar.

“ _Don’t_ die on me, _don’t-_ Forget about that _stupid_ goal of yours. You-”

“Felix.”

There it was. That ice cold, detached tone just _barely_ hinting at his insanity. The same voice Dimitri had when plainly rambling to Randolph about a dozen of ways to _torture_ him. A voice brimming with black ice and fiery heat whenever he said his piece during a few meetings, creating tension that even frightened the _Professor._

Felix’s Crest bloomed on his clammy skin, blunt fingernails tearing Dimitri’s cape and scratching his black armor. 

“Mitya, Mitya, _Mitya._ Please- _please._ It’s going to _ruin_ you, please just-”

“What _else_ am I to do other than become the boar you see?” Dimitri almost _snapped._

Felix’s breath hitched on a weak sob. He slowly lifted his head, staring into heated, glaring eyes. The feral look in his darkening eyes withered away with whatever face Felix was making.

“Live, you- you have to-! _Li-Live-_ please.”

“For yourself. For whatever you believe in, I don’t _care_ as long as it’s not for the dead or the living. For _revenge,_ just-”

“That’s-”

Felix kept going as if he didn’t hear Dimitri.

“Even if you don’t know your reason or don’t _have_ one, you _have_ to keep living.”

Dimitri gently cradled the back of Felix’s head, leaving his gauntleted hand on his hair. 

“What brought this on?” Dimitri quietly asked. 

Felix grunted, a lie springing onto his tongue. 

“Nightmare, I guess.”

Dimitri didn’t reply, only holding Felix close. As the silence continued to loom in the classroom, Felix’s mind ran. He rapidly recalled the paths he walked, _not_ the twisted, spiraling road of slain childhood friends and a father. Simply because that _never_ truly happened. Another Felix must have met that fate, dying to Sylvain’s hands because Felix strictly remembered siding with the Kingdom, watching from afar as the Professor reluctantly cut through former students. 

He remembered standing face to face with the unwilling traitor, boring holes into the Professor’s head. Felix remembered an arrow lodging into his forehead, the Professor’s solemn voice echoing in his ringing ears. “Allow me to dem-”

The sound of glass breaking _shrieked_ into his deafened ears. A sense of deja vu crashed into Felix’s body as he locked eyes with his former Professor. Then, they turned on their heel, retreating with uneven footsteps. They kept walking even as Felix cast a Thoron just to spite them. 

In fact, unlike the previous lives Felix lived, when the Professor taught the Black Eagles a second time, they hadn’t bugged Felix or any other outer House students to join the Eagles. It hurt, especially when he remembered just _why_ the Professor didn’t recruit them. They sided with the Empire during the war. Everytime Felix saw them, they looked more and more drained, pale face permanently etched in pain as they engaged a student to the death. They were much too attached to their students, former or not. Attached enough to haul each and every student and staff member into one class. A second time, a third time. Never a fourth, _never_ did they let Felix or _anyone_ ally under a deep red and gold banner.

“Fraldarius?” Byleth called.

Right. The Professor, now dubbed “Byleth” this time around dropped the first name basis they had with the students. Maybe it was a way to distance their heart from the Blue Lions, to erase the bubbling emotions they felt for their first choice. Their _first_ House.

Staring into carefully blank mint green eyes, Felix remembered plenty more. A dead-eyed woman with deep dark blue eyes, gazing ahead with teeming confusion at the prospect of teaching. Greeting her Lions with a bland introduction, a name that Felix was _pretty sure_ meant for males, but brushed off because the damned woman was already strange enough. A crack of a smile at the Blue Lions’ antics, Felix included. Pouring in immense effort with personalized lessons for them. Wincing and nearly balking when she gave Dimitri the wrong answer after killing Lonato, worry seeping into her usually emotionless face. Increasing dread weighing her down as she received monthly missions. Judging by her minuscule reactions, it almost seemed like she had a vague recollection of them but never knew _exactly_ what went down. 

When five years went by, their Professor grew more and more expressive. Intense sorrow at Dimitri’s shattered mental state, wishing to comfort him, to comfort _all_ of the Blue Lions. Befuddled by _pure_ shock at Dedue’s random return onto the battlefield, tears falling from her eyes, only to crumble in horror at the sight of Ferdinand and Lorenz on the opposing side. Then, Gronder Field happened and the Professor _lost_ it. Lots and _lots_ of tears were shed from that point on, as well as flaming vitriol when Edelgard agreed to meet her and Dimitri. A bit of humor, and building frustration were there, too. The Professor staring at Claude in disbelief as he casually said he would leave for somewhere else, handing over a Failnaught she would keep tucked away in the convoy. She laughed, completely baffled by Claude’s words. Budding horror when the Kingdom army clashed with Edelgard a final time, mint green eyes impossibly wide at Edelgard’s monstrous transformation. 

The Professor restarted their journey, choosing the Golden Deer House. Felix remembered the woman rushing around the monastery, gifting items to the Black Eagle students every single Sunday. At the time, Felix was scared and almost confused at how _close_ he felt to the Professor. At how specific memories flooded his mind, and at how easily he joined the Golden Deer along with his classmates. Felix remembered the glares or bone-deep tired expressions she wore whenever she spoke to Edelgard or Rhea. The lack of surprise when the Golden Deer uncovered the Flame Emperor’s true identity. How enamored she was with the Golden Deer students, but still glancing longingly at the Blue Lions.

Then, the Professor changed altogether. A different name, hell, even a different gender. Siding with the Empire last and regretting that decision. Each sharp, biting word from _his_ former students seemed to cut deep. 

The Professor’s fifth attempt of whatever they were doing was a solo affair. Never listening to Rhea or Seteth’s pleas to bring reinforcements. Coming back to Garreg Mach with wicked bruises and almost grave injuries. Fading hope quick to reignite and die out in the same second. 

Felix was once again brought back to the past. He let go of Dimitri, keeping his gaze locked on Byleth, something he _still_ wasn’t comfortable in doing. Felix tilted his head back, trying to replicate Dimitri’s creepy ass, maddening glare. He covered his right eye with his hand and-

Byleth’s bland mint eyes _cracked_ in realization. Horror. 

Felix scoffed, glancing away as a vow settled in his mind. He remembered just about everything. Felix wouldn’t waste the opportunity to make a difference.


End file.
